


figures drawn to scale

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 18:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16500134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: Paid Research Opportunity:Romantic Couples StudyUnfortunately, Mikey’s real boyfriend lives hours away; fortunately, Mikey’s best friend is a great fake boyfriend.





	figures drawn to scale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stromesquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stromesquad/gifts).



> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%. Please keep this work confined to fan spaces and away from the eyes of the people mentioned herein!
> 
> Thanks to the HBB Mods for organizing this fic fest, to Rachel for her wonderful beta work, to Julia and Dean for cheering this along, to everyone else who let me talk at them about this for months. 
> 
> [Hailey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helveticaneue) made an amazing [mix](https://helveticanouveau.tumblr.com/post/179702953539/a-mix-for-figures-drawn-to-scale-by) for this, PLEASE check it out!!! She also made a beautiful graphic to go with it. Endless thanks to her for her art and for her friendship <3
> 
> This fic wouldn't exist if I didn't love Ali as much as I do.
> 
> [inspired by this post](http://lesbianrey.tumblr.com/post/139998890690/looks-like-the-perfect-opportunity-for-the-fake)

 

Mikey is sitting on Dylan’s couch when he hears Dylan get home.

It’s maybe weird, because Mikey doesn’t actually live here, but he’s had a spare key since forever, and Dylan’s roommates spend all their time either in the library doing grad student things (Connor) or making out with their professional athlete boyfriends (Mitch), so they aren’t around enough to mind.

“Thought you had lab,” Dylan says, sorting through his mail, even though Mikey knows for a fact that it’s literally all just the university begging him to donate money, like he’s been an alumnus for more than six months and isn’t still paying off his student loans.

“I did,” Mikey says. “Finished early. Intro to Programming is easy as fuck.”

Dylan snorts. “Don’t let Davo hear you saying that, he almost failed it.”

“Really?”

“That’s what he says.” Dylan flops down on the couch next to Mikey, leaving the newest batch of ‘please give us more money please’ letters on the table. “So he probably got less than 100 on some exam and had to go to office hours twice.”

“Oh no, poor thing,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes. Davo’s a good guy, but he’s Dylan’s friend, and it’s a friendship that comes with its fair share of drama. Mikey’s always been privy to it, and obviously is on Dylan’s side whenever things come up, so he’s not exactly jumping at the bone to cut him a break.

Dylan elbows him. “Hey, have some sympathy. Asking for help is hard for him.”

“I know, I know,” Mikey says. “Whatever, the TA’s are pretty helpful. I was done in an hour.”

“So you figured you’d come all the way here and bother me instead of socializing with your fellow undergrads?”

“Who’s there to socialize with?” Mikey says. He’s not wholly joking, either; he’s a senior, and his friends all graduated last year. Pretty much his only saving grace is that Dylan lives fifteen minutes from campus.

“Davo’s still around,” Dylan says.

“Davo’s a nerd,” Mikey says. “A busy nerd. You, on the other hand, don’t do shit.”

“I have a job,” Dylan says defensively.

“But then you leave that job, and all you have in the world to keep you entertained is my beautiful face.” Mikey puts his hands under his chin and bats his eyes at Dylan, which gets Dylan to make Mikey’s favorite annoyed expression, the one where he blushes a little and tries not to look like he’s totally won over by Mikey’s charm.

“I have Netflix,” Dylan deadpans. “And you have homework.”

“Not anything due soon enough to be worth starting,” Mikey says. “Also, your WiFi is better than dorm WiFi.”

“So that’s why you spend all your time here,” Dylan says. “I get it, now.”

“Yep,” Mikey says, grinning. “Just in it for the internet.”

Dylan makes a pleased kind of grunting noise at that, then grabs his laptop off the coffee table. “Well, if you wanted to thank me for letting you use it, you could help me make dinner.” He gives Mikey a quick glance before adding, “If you’re not doing anything else tonight, I mean.”

“I’ve got a phone call at, like, 9?” Mikey says. “Other than that, I’m free.”

“Who’s the call with?”

“Nate,” Mikey says, smiling a little on instinct, because Nate makes him happy, which is sort of the point of the whole boyfriends thing.

“Oh,” Dylan says. “I mean, were you— when would you have to leave here?”

“Uh, I dunno,” Mikey says, shrugging. “Whenever, I guess. If you don’t want me to call him from here, I can just leave and talk to him while I walk.”

“That’s so dangerous,” Dylan says.

“No it’s not,” Mikey says, a little disbelieving as he rolls his eyes. “I can walk and talk at the same time.”

“You need to be alert.”

“Don’t worry, _mom,_ I can still look both ways while I’m on the phone.”

“You’re more likely to get mugged if they think they can catch you off guard.”

“You’re so paranoid,” Mikey says. “If you really want, I can just call him from here.”

“Don’t you wanna call him from somewhere with a little more… y’know.”

Mikey, in fact, does _not_ know, and furrows his brow to indicate as much.

“Privacy,” Dylan says. “So you can talk about whatever couples talk about.”

“I mean, it’s not like I need to tell him shit that I wouldn’t tell you,” Mikey says, shrugging. “We talk plenty. It doesn’t always have to be just the two of us.”

“I guess,” Dylan says. “Then call him from here, yeah.”

Mikey knows that if he stays here after the sun’s down, there’s about an 80% chance of him just crashing here tonight, because Mikey’s lazy, and Dylan is the worst kind of overprotective mom friend when it comes to Mikey walking places at night. He’s got some spare clothes in Dylan’s drawer, he’s pretty sure, and Dylan’s couch is pretty much a second home, or a third home, or, like, a fifth home, depending on how he defines ‘home’.

“Sweet,” Mikey says. “Let’s get cookin’, big boy.”

“Never say words again,” Dylan says, but Mikey can tell that he’s trying not to laugh.

Cooking dinner is fine. Mikey’s kind of useless in the kitchen, but he’s getting better, he thinks; he’s reached a point where he’s actually excited to live on his own and have a place to cook meals. The thought used to terrify him, but Nate’s got an apartment off campus at his school, and Dylan’s lived at this place for a few months. Both of them are surprisingly passable adults. It gives Mikey some hope.

“We made fuckin’ pasta,” Mikey tells Nate afterwards, FaceTiming him upside-down from Dylan’s couch. “It was lit.”

“Did you put things on the pasta?” Nate says.

“No,” Mikey deadpans. “We just had plain pasta. No salt, no butter, no sauce, just noodles.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Nate says, and then he blows a kiss, like the stupid sappy thing he is. “How’re classes?”

“Eh, they’re classes, I’m taking them,” Mikey says. “Man, I don’t know how people go through college and come out the other side thinking, ‘you know what sounds like a good idea? More of this.’”

“It’s because going to school is easier than finding a sense of purpose,” Dylan calls from the kitchen.

“Yeah, that,” Nate says, and then he yells, “Hi, Stromer.”

“Sup,” Dylan says. “Your boyfriend’s a loser who left me with the dishes, you should dump him.”

“Michael,” Nate says, faux-shocked, like this is somehow a surprise. “You’re such a rude guest.”

“Nah, Stromer’s just an amazing host,” Mikey says. “Right, Stromer?”

“No,” Dylan says.

Mikey rolls his eyes. “Leave the dishes, I told you I’d do them after we hung up.”

“Will you, though?” Dylan says, but he turns off the water and wanders out of the kitchen into the living room.

“Yes,” Mikey says. “You fed me and let me use your baller WiFi, it’s only fair.”

“Nate, can you please come here and get him off my couch?” Dylan says, sitting down on the couch.

“I wish I could,” Nate says. “Anyway, Mikes, how’s the job search going?”

Mikey blows a raspberry, and Nate laughs.

“That means it’s awesome and you’re earning a bajillion dollars a year, right?”

“Stop talking about jobs,” Dylan groans. “It’s in the apartment bylaws.”

“You’re literally employed,” Mikey says, and then he turns back to Nate. “But yeah, no, nothing for spare cash right now. Tutoring market should pick up soon. Stromer’ll cover me in the meantime.”

“Says who?” Dylan says, indignant.

“Says Mikey,” Nate says cheerfully, before Mikey gets a chance to. That’d earn him a fist bump, if he was here right now; on the list of things that suck about semi-long distance relationships, not being able to fist bump is pretty low, but it’s still on the list.

“I mean, I could find another way to earn cash,” Mikey says. “I saw a study the other day that’s looking for couples who live together.”

“We don’t live together,” Nate points out.

Mikey waves his hand. “We can pretend.”

“I live four hours away,” Nate says. “I don’t even go to your school.”

“But we’re in love,” Mikey says.

“Yeah, but we’d have to lie about everything else,” Nate says. “You might as well just ask Stromer to pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“Ew,” Mikey says, crinkling his nose for effect. “He’s so lanky, though.”

“Fuck you, I’d be a great fake boyfriend,” Dylan says.

“He really would,” Nate says, and Dylan does an affirming nod at that, even though Nate can’t see. Mikey figures it’s not worth mentioning. “That backstory would be adorable.”

“Our moms always thought we’d end up together,” Dylan says, faux-wistful.

“Remember how Taylor thought—”

“Whatever,” Mikey says, cutting Nate off, because last time someone brought up the time Taylor got drunk and became convinced that Mikey had sucked Dylan’s dick at least once, Dylan got all weird about it, and Mikey got all hurt and didn’t know why, and it’s generally something Mikey would prefer to avoid talking about. “Well, if you can’t drive out and pretend to be my boyfriend, I guess I’ll just do something else. Maybe drop out of school and become a con man.”

“You’d be a terrible con man,” Dylan says.

“You really would,” Nate says. “Ry and I were talking about it the other day.”

“Why?” Dylan asks.

Nate shrugs. “It came up,” he says. “Mikey’s a pretty shitty liar.”

“I will not sit here and be slandered by my boyfriend _and_ best friend,” Mikey says. “And also Ryan, what the hell. Tell him he’s the worst little brother ever, next time you see him.”

“I’m sure he’ll believe that,” Nate says, and Dylan snorts.

“I hate all of you,” Mikey grumbles, crossing his arms and doing a pout that’s probably exaggerated, but whatever. “None of this is helping me make money. Maybe I should do this fake boyfriend thing, honestly.”

“If you’re serious, I call dibs on the fake boyfriend role,” Dylan says immediately. “I need the money.”

“Find your own boyfriend study, then,” Mikey says.  

“How?” Dylan says. “I graduated, they don’t let you do those anymore.”

“Stromer really is the best choice,” Nate says, all diplomatic, like this is an idea he’s actually taking seriously.

“Mikey, I think I like your boyfriend better than I like you,” Dylan says, sounding way too pleased.

“Yeah, whatever,” Mikey says. “I guess if I were forced to pick a fake boyfriend, Stromer would be the guy, but only because it would piss off Ryan and Matty.”

“A noble cause,” Dylan says solemnly.

“I think you guys should do it,” Nate says. “Up my chances of becoming a trophy husband at some point in the future, y’know?”

“It’s not _that_ much money,” Mikey says. He doesn’t actually remember how much it pays, but he’s pretty sure— like, he looks at the listings for these things a lot, and this one was a fair bit more than usual, but not enough to really make an impact on his life. Just— a nice chunk of pocket change, maybe cover a textbook and a half.

“Still,” Nate says. “It’s money.”

“I could always use some of that,” Dylan says. “Pumpkin spice season is coming up.”

“You wanna pretend to date me to fund your Starbucks habit?”

 _“Our_ Starbucks habit,” Dylan corrects, throwing an arm over Mikey’s shoulders. “If we’re boyfriends who live together, I mean.”

“You work for a small, independent, local business, and you still go to Starbucks. That’s definitely unethical,” Mikey says, shrugging Dylan off. It’s not that he thinks it’s weird that he and Dylan are all touchy-feely, or that Nate isn’t comfortable with it, but it’s just— a thing Mikey feels weird doing where his boyfriend can see.

“What’s unethical is that my small, independent, local place of employment doesn’t do pumpkin spice anything,” Dylan says.

“That’s ridiculous,” Nate says. “Mikey, fake date the man to save him from his misery.”

“I’ll think about it,” Mikey says, and he doesn’t know why this idea turning serious is making him feel more anxious by the second. Specifically the part where he pretends to date Dylan, because— in theory, that _shouldn’t_ be weird. It’s a joke, how often they get mistaken for a couple by accident. Nate thinks it’s hilarious, and if Nate is okay with it, Mikey should be too, and he _is,_ except for how it makes him feel… something. He’d say it was guilt, if admitting that it was guilt didn’t make him feel guilty. It’s, like, almost-guilt. Mostly he just thinks of it as weirdness, then doesn’t think about it much after that.

But now, Dylan and Nate are grinning at him like he’s on the brink of agreeing to the best idea in the universe, and Mikey doesn’t so much make the choice to give in, just finds himself rolling his eyes and doing a fake-annoyed sigh.

“Fine, sure, let’s pretend to be boyfriends for money,” Mikey says. “Fuck science, get paid, all that jazz.”

“There’s no one I’d rather deceive researchers with than you,” Dylan says, and Nate laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and with both of them looking all radiant and pleased and full of sunshine, Mikey can’t really imagine any part of this being a bad idea.  

……

(The thing is, the Dylan thing isn’t, like, a problem, or anything. It’s just— it’s not even a thing, because Mikey has an awesome boyfriend who he’s totally in love with. Like, Nate is the _best,_ and Mikey would happily give him the world. They’re probably gonna spend the rest of their lives together, and Mikey is fucking hype for it, because a life with Nate in it is the literal dream.

In other words, Mikey is super happy with his love life, has an emotionally fulfilling relationship, or whatever, and he couldn’t ask for anyone better to share that with. He and Nate are solid, no matter what happens.

So the only problem is the Dylan thing, and that’s not even a problem.

The Dylan thing is just— Dylan’s always _there,_ and he always has been. Mikey remembers Dylan regaling him with tales of Kindergarten back when Mikey was still in Pre-K, Dylan comparing Mikey’s class schedule with his from the year before to see if they had any of the same teachers, Dylan introducing Mikey to his friends on the first day of high school and making the butterflies in Mikey’s stomach slow down. He’s seen Dylan be the most caring brother in the world, has been on the receiving end of his brand of care, brotherly and friendly and something in between, and it’s—

It’s _Dylan._ It was always gonna be a thing, because he’s the boy next door and Mikey’s best friend.

And sure, Nate is also Mikey’s best friend, but Dylan is a different kind of best friend. An old friend, someone he’s grown up in front of. It’s just not the same kind of thing, but they’re both equally important.

Mikey is allowed to have two best friends. He’s pretty sure that’s allowed, at least.)

……

The first time Mikey feels at all weird about the whole thing is when he and Dylan go to sign up for the thing, because there are other people there.

Which, like, of course there are. It’s a study that pays on a college campus, and there’s nothing people in love enjoy more than talking about being in love.

It makes Mikey miss Nate a little.

Or, if he’s being honest, it makes him miss Nate a lot.

The missing gets worse when Dylan grabs his hand, because there’s a second where Mikey’s heart sort of starts to stop— not because he’s got any problem with holding Dylan’s hand, but just because he’s lonely, and not really expecting it, so it sort of catches him off guard.

Once the shock wears off, though, Mikey goes back to feeling like someone drew a frowny face right on his heart.

“Nice,” he says, giving Dylan’s hand a squeeze, because there’s a little comfort in that.

“Thanks,” Dylan says, a little wry. “You good?”

Mikey shrugs. “Y’know,” he says, and then he looks around the room pointedly, then back at Dylan, and Dylan seems to get that Mikey means, _seeing all these happy couples together makes me sad that I can’t be here with my actual boyfriend and even though you’re like really great holding your hand makes me feel weird and empty inside even if I don’t wanna let go._

Or, like, the gist of that. Maybe a little more than the gist. They’re pretty good at reading each other.

They keep holding hands until their names get called, and someone—presumably a research assistant, considering Mikey’s pretty sure they’d been in freshman writing seminar together—leads them to a small, unassuming office.

It’s fine. It’s not like the guy recognizes Mikey, and even if he did, it’s not like he’d be shocked to find Mikey and Dylan at a couple’s study together. The people who know Mikey well enough to know about Nate would probably figure this out in a heartbeat, because Mikey and Dylan’s closeness is a well-known and often-discussed thing among their friends. They might find it funny, and might give them shit for it, but it wouldn’t be a big deal.

It _isn’t_ a big deal.

That still doesn’t stop Mikey’s palms from sweating, or Dylan’s either, for that matter.

The researcher is a woman who Mikey is scared of on instinct— not because she’s intimidating, per se, but because Mikey can see a few pictures of her family on her desk, and he’s got it in his head that mothers can always tell when he’s lying. It’s probably just because of his mom and Trish, but still. The fear is there.

“Hello,” she says, giving them a polite smile. “I’m Dr. Goldman, one of the head researchers on this project, and I’m here to just ask a few preliminary questions, and if we determine that we’d like to include you in the study, you will be given a stipend for this session. We’re just going to check that you qualify to participate at first. Does that sound alright?”

Mikey and Dylan share a glance, then nod in agreement.

“Wonderful. I was wondering if you could start by introducing yourselves, give a little bit of background on your relationship, how you met, how long you’ve been together, et cetera.”

“Alright,” Dylan says. “Well, uh— we’ve sort of just— always known each other?”

“We grew up next door to each other,” Mikey chimes in. “And we’re both middle children.”

“What does that matter?” Dylan asks.

Mikey shrugs. “I dunno, it seems relevant. Doesn’t that shit fuck you up?”

“I’m sorry for him,” Dylan says, turning to Dr. Goldman. “Basically, the story of our relationship is that he was the annoying boy next door who followed me to college, and I haven’t been able to get rid of him.”

“It’s a little more romantic than that,” Mikey says, kind of offended.

Dr. Goldman, for her part, looks a little amused. “So you two have always been close, then.”

“Yes,” Mikey says. “For the record, I didn’t just follow him to college. He was a factor, but—”

“I was a factor?” Dylan interrupts.

Mikey turns to him, brow furrowed. “Yeah,” he says. “You knew that. Remember how you kept trying to sell me on this place?”

“I mean, you never—” Dylan shakes his head. “Whatever. Uh. Well, we’ve always lived close to each other, and we’ve always— had each other’s backs, so. When we got here, it just sort of… happened?”

“For the first few months, he kept trying to get me to branch out, would always joke about me making other friends.”

Dylan snorts. “I like that the idea of you making other friends is, like, automatically a joke.”

“You know what I mean,” Mikey says, making a face at him. “Remember? You used to get all worried about me not getting the full college experience, or something.”

“I didn’t want to hold you back from making meaningful new relationships!”

“Please, you just didn’t want an annoying freshman tagging along everywhere you went,” Mikey says, and he means it jokingly, but Dylan’s face kind of falls. It’s the opposite of what Mikey wants. “Okay, kidding, I know you had my best interest at heart.”

Dylan softens a bit, but there’s still something fierce in it when he says, “I always do,” trying to make it sound like a joke and missing by a mile.

There’s a moment where Mikey stares at him, trying to figure out what’s going on with his face, but then Dr. Goldman clears her throat, and Mikey’s abruptly brought back down to Earth, not really sure when he left.

“So I take it you didn’t get together until college— was it during that first year, or later?”

“During our first year,” Mikey says. “A few months in, but— yeah.”

“And we’ve been together ever since,” Dylan says.

“Happily ever after.”

“Wonderful,” Dr. Goldman says, scribbling something down on a notepad. “Now, I’m going to ask a few more personal questions. You said you’ve always been close, correct?”

“Pretty much,” Mikey says.

“So, in the context of that, how did you distinguish between romantic feelings and general interpersonal intimacy?”

Mikey frowns, because— “I didn’t have to make a distinction,” he says. “You can just love your best friend. It’s not like there was a realization, or whatever.”

“Would you care to elaborate on that?” she says, too composed for Mikey’s liking, but whatever.

“I didn’t wake up and all of a sudden realize he was a different person,” Mikey says. “It just— happened. People like each other, and then they like each other more, and it’s just, like, that. Like, I wanted to date him because he was my best friend, y’know?” He turns to Dylan, looking for agreement, but instead Dylan’s giving him a weird look, sort of heavy and curious with a hint of a blush underneath.

Belatedly, Mikey wonders if he’s being too honest, even though he’s not quite sure what he’s being honest about.

“I think getting to see each other at school was a big factor,” Dylan says, tearing his eyes away from Mikey, like he’s mediating something before it’s even a dispute. Mikey’s not sure why he’s feeling so fired up, just wants to defend a relationship that isn’t actually real. “Without parents and, like, our high school friends, it sort of— gave us room to breathe.”

It’s plausible, actually, probably based in something really true. “It’s weird going home sometimes,” Mikey says, before he really knows what point he’s trying to make. “It’s like— you know. You grow up once you leave home, right, but now it’s also— _we_ grew up. And this was us… growing up.” He bites his lip. “I don’t know if that really made sense—”

“It did,” Dylan says quickly, before Dr. Goldman can ask them another clarifying question. “Like, this is just a natural… progression, right?”

“Right,” Mikey says, easy as anything, and it takes him a beat to realize that he should probably be lying when he says it.

She nods and jots down a few more notes, and Mikey is feeling weirdly defensive, wants to know what she’s writing down. But she’s a researcher, so it’s probably just normal research stuff, and Mikey doesn’t want to make a scene when he’s supposed to just come in here and pretend to be half of a happy couple.

Anyway, Dylan’s hand is on his knee now, and it’s kind of calming him down, and Mikey feels dumb for needing to be calmed, but he appreciates it anyway.

“What’s your living situation like when you’re at school?” she asks. “Are you both students?”

“He is, I graduated,” Dylan says, apparently taking the lead on answering questions now.

“But he went here until last year, and still lives near campus,” Mikey adds. “I’m in the dorms, he’s in his same apartment. With roommates. One started the same year Dyl did, but he’s doing a five year program, and the other’s a grad student.”

“How often do you guys get to see each other?” she asks.

Mikey and Dylan exchange a look, and then both blush, for some reason, before doing matching shrug-like gestures.

“Pretty often,” Dylan says. “He likes my WiFi better, and my roommates are cool with him staying on th— I mean, staying over.”

Right. If they were together, Mikey probably wouldn’t sleep on the couch. “I like doing homework in his living room better than in my dorm, or whatever. Like, no drunk freshmen, just maybe Mitch and Davo.”

“And that’s a big maybe,” Dylan says, and Mikey laughs a bit.

“Yeah, they aren’t around much,” Mikey says. “Is, uh, that what you wanted to know?”

Dr. Goldman  nods, eyes mostly fixed on her notepad. “So the research we’re doing is on the living habits of couples who are on the brink of young adulthood, and specifically the trends of informal cohabitation and short-term combined living situations. You two aren’t married, correct?”

“What? No, of course not,” Mikey says. “I haven’t even graduated.”

“And our older brothers would kill us if we got married before they did,” Dylan adds.

“Do you have plans to get married?”

“Like— to each other? Or generally?” Mikey says.

She shrugs. “Either one. More the former, though. Have you guys discussed marriage?”

Mikey looks to Dylan, who looks about as clueless as Mikey does as to how they’re going to answer that.

“Well, our moms made a ton of jokes about it when we were kids, but other than that— uh, not really?” Mikey says. “We’re pretty young for that, right?” He’s always thought that he’s too young for that; he’s thought of Nate as a forever kind of thing for as long as he’s known him, but that’s more, like, the abstract concept of their love being everlasting, not an actual desire to be _married._

“There’s no right answer,” she says, her voice neutral. “But it’s fairly standard for your generation to get married later, or not at all. Don’t worry too much about it.”

Mikey could swear she’s smirking, but tries not to let it bother him.

“So, uh,” Dylan says, “what do you mean by informal cohabitation, or whatever?”

“Living situations in which young people more or less grow accustomed to sharing space with each other before formally moving in together,” she says. “So you don’t share a rent bill or the economic burden of living together, and your names aren’t on a shared lease, but you still share a living space.”

“So you mean most college kids,” Dylan says.

“Well, yes,” she says. “College kids and young adults. Increasing numbers of young people are focusing on adulthood as a more individual process while still entering into committed relationships at a fairly young age, and we want to explore the benefits of that.”

“Right,” Dylan says, nodding. “I think I get it.”

Mikey has to hold back a snort, because he can practically see Dylan making a mental note to google this later. He’s probably gonna have to remember his JSTOR password so Dylan can use it to download a fuckton of articles he’s never gonna read.

“Our appointment is nearly over,” she says, “and the next round of surveying is in a few weeks, and if you wish to participate in the experiment further, we’re going to ask you to make a few small changes to your daily habits.”

“What sorts of changes?” Mikey asks.

“Well, we’d like you to put some more physical distance into your relationship,” she says. “That doesn’t mean necessarily not speaking to each other, but not sharing a bedroom and limiting your personal time together to daytime. Does that seem feasible?”

“Uh,” Dylan says. “Yeah, I think we could make that work. Mikey?”

“Yeah,” Mikey says. “That’s all?”

“Yes. We’ll email you a list of questions we’re going to ask you in the next session 24 hours prior to your appointment,” she says. “Thank you so much, we’re happy to be working with you.”

She shakes Mikey’s hand, and then Dylan’s, and seconds later they’re out in the hall, awkwardly walking past the couples still waiting for their appointments to receive their payment for the first session. It turns out to just be cash in an envelope, which Mikey thinks is kind of jank, but it’s more convenient for him, so he’s not gonna question it.

“That wasn’t awful,” Dylan says. “I think we did pretty good.”

“Oh, for sure,” Mikey says, wondering if there’s any cash-only places he’s been putting off going because he’s too lazy to bother with an ATM. He knows there are places, just not ones he can remember off the top of his head besides the ice cream truck.

“Should we feel bad?”

Mikey turns to Dylan, frowning. “What for?”

“Messing with data,” Dylan says. “Hurting science.”

“Science doesn’t have feelings, I think it’ll forgive us,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I care more about me eating food than one set of data being thrown off. It’s their fault if they couldn’t weed us out.”

“I guess,” Dylan says. “It’s not like we’re flush with cash.”

“Dude, twenty bucks can buy you a ton,” Mikey says. “That’s, like, twenty pairs of plastic handcuffs from the dollar store.”

“Is that really the best way you can think to spend twenty dollars?”

“It’s _a_ way to spend twenty dollars,” Mikey says. “Four Starbucks drinks, is another, if you really hate the dollar store.”

“Y’know, you really should’ve taken an econ class at some point,” Dylan says. “Maybe then your financial instincts wouldn’t lead you to the dollar store.”

“The dollar store is a magical place,” Mikey says.

“I can’t believe someone actually asked if _you_ were married today,” Dylan says. “You’re not ready to share a bank account with another person.”

“Hey, I’d be a great husband. Like, the best spouse ever. I’d knock your socks off with how good I’d be at marriage.”

“Maybe someday,” Dylan says, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Anyway, we should treat ourselves.”

“Thought you were Mister Financial Responsibility,” Mikey says.

“I am,” Dylan says, faux-indignant. “Gelato is a way better investment than plastic handcuffs.”

“Ice cream before dinner? And you’re lecturing me on adulthood?”

“I’m the real adult in this fake relationship,” Dylan says, which is a pretty snappy argument, if not a strong one. Mikey’s never been one for making sense, though, so he figures he can let the conversation end there.

……

Once upon a time, Mikey had believed in soulmates, and believed that Dylan was his, but then he fell in love with Nate, and things started to change.

Now, Mikey thinks there may be soulmates, but he’s learning that soulmates might just be the people who stick around forever, and the people you fall in love with are the people who respect that.

Mikey’s always felt a little weird about being so close with Dylan, because he has a boyfriend, but it’s never been something that he’s really felt guilty about. He loves Nate, and he knows he loves Nate, and one of the things he loves most about Nate is that Nate gets it. He understands that Mikey has to make time for Dylan, that Mikey needs him to be patient when Dylan-time gets tricky, that Dylan would be— not an obstacle in their relationship, but something to work around nonetheless. He’s not sure it would be fair to ask that of someone, but he’d never even had to. Nate had just gotten it, without jealousy or blame or anything.

And it’s great, that Nate knows Mikey loves him with that much certainty, because for all Mikey is overflowing with affection, he worries, sometimes, that people won’t see it, that people won’t understand that Mikey is the way he is because he just genuinely loves people this much.

He’d give Nate all the reassurance in the world that he’d rather have Nate as his boyfriend than anyone else, but Nate’s never asked for it, and it’s just— it’s nice. It makes dating Nate feel as easy as breathing, which isn’t something Mikey ever expected out of a relationship.

But Nate’s full of pleasant surprises.

Like, it’s one thing to be okay with your boyfriend pretending to date his best friend, but to, like, take interest in it and reach out and actually become friends with someone just because the people in your boyfriend’s life matter to you?

That’s a little next level, in Mikey’s opinion, and it’s pretty awesome.

“Oh, hey, he’s here,” Dylan says, when Mikey walks into his apartment. “Say hi to your boyfriend.”

“Fake or real?” Mikey asks.

Dylan turns his laptop around, revealing the familiar image of a smiling Nate sitting in his dorm. “Both,” Dylan says, grinning proudly as Nate waves.

Mikey’s heart does something funny at the sight of Dylan smiling, Nate’s dimples visible on the screen. Dylan’s got headphones in, so Mikey can’t hear what he’s saying, but— it’s nice, watching them get along, especially because it’s clearly not for Mikey’s benefit. He loves them both a disgusting amount; it makes him feel warm, and a little tingly, like he had the first time Nate had smiled at him and shook his hair out of his eyes.

It feels a little like a crush, but, like, a crush on the concept of Dylan and Nate just— being friends?

Whatever. The point is that it’s a nice thing to see, and it makes Mikey feel good.

“Headphones out,” Mikey tells Dylan. “You’re not allowed to hog my boyfriend.”

“No need to get possessive,” Dylan says, pulling the headphones out of the jack.

“Are you kidding?” Nate’s voice rings out. “Mikey’s always possessive, it’s part of his charm.”

“Hey,” Mikey says, vaguely offended.

“He’s right,” Dylan says, turning the laptop back around as Mikey moves to sit next to him on the couch. “You all are. It’s a McLeod thing.”

“Don’t compare me to my brothers,” Mikey says, even though he and Ryan are pretty similar people when it comes to what Dylan’s talking about. He wouldn’t say it’s possessiveness, really, just— he likes his people, cares about them, doesn’t have any issue letting them know that he wants them to stick around.

“I think it’s a great thing,” Nate says, sounding kind of proud. “I like it when you get all possessive and stuff. It makes me feel loved.”

“That’s just cause I love you, dumbass,” Mikey says.

“You guys are disgusting,” Dylan says. “I can’t believe you can even bring yourself to pretend to date me.”

“I mean, he sort of loves you too, so,” Nate says, and Mikey’s stomach does something complicated at that, a flash of a fantasy appearing in his head before Mikey pushes it down, because— no. That’s not what Nate meant. That’s not— it’s not even a thought he can complete, because that’s not how things work, not even how Mikey feels.

Or, like, Mikey loves Dylan—obviously, he does—but just. Not the same way he loves Nate. It’s just that when Mikey’s got two best friends, one real boyfriend, and one fake boyfriend— things can get confused in his head, sometimes, but it’s just a mix-up, not— it’s nothing more than that.

“I don’t like the two of you talking,” Mikey says, not meaning it at all. “This won’t end well for me.”

“I think it’ll end really well for all of us, actually,” Nate says.

If Nate were here, Mikey would pinch his cheek or something, just to be annoying, but he’s not, so Mikey settles for poking Dylan’s nose like it’s an elevator button instead, which has roughly the same effect.

It’s not a very notable afternoon, all things considered, but Mikey has a feeling he’s gonna carry it with him for a while. It’s the kind of random happy memory that tends to stick.

……

So a thing happens, where—

Okay. Mikey feels totally fine about things with Nate, and about the whole pretending-to-date-Dylan thing, because Nate is a great real boyfriend, and Dylan’s a great fake one.

But the thing is—

Mikey and Dylan work because Mikey draws very clear lines in his head, right, and the fake dating thing is sort of… crumpling the metaphorical sheet of paper on which those lines were drawn, and now Mikey’s frantically smoothing out the paper and trying to reposition it, but it’s not quite the same as it was before, and he’s a little lost.

Which might not make much sense, but nothing makes much sense in Mikey’s head anymore, so he thinks the metaphor fits.

Mitch Marner and his boyfriend are hanging around Dylan’s living room, which is weird, because Dylan’s living room is unofficially Mikey’s space, and Mitch Marner is almost never here. But he is now, and Mikey and Dylan have fake dating plans to discuss that they can’t talk about in front of Mitch, and—

Whatever.

The point is that Mikey sort of ends up falling asleep in Dylan’s bed.

With Dylan. In the same bed.

It’s not like anything _happens._ Mikey is tired, Dylan’s couch is occupied, and he’s already wearing sweats; it’s natural to pull a blanket up to his chin, sleepily flip Dylan off as Dylan loudly complains about Mikey stealing his bed, and drift off for a few seconds. It’s after midnight, and Mikey really is planning to just rest for a second, but the next time he wakes up, the lights are off, and Dylan’s asleep next to him.

And Mikey sort of just— looks.

That’s all.

It’s too dark for him to make out any of the details of Dylan’s face, but he knows it well enough that the parts he can’t see fall into place; the soft curve of his mouth, the gentle way his weirdly long eyelashes rest high on his cheeks, the way he looks smaller like this than he ever does when he’s awake. Mikey forgets that Dylan’s barely taller than him, because he always seems to take up the perfect amount of space in any room, just fits everywhere, except for right here. The fabric of the blanket is swirling around him; he looks a little like he’s drowning in it, enveloped by the gentle cotton waves.

He’s not wearing a shirt, and that’s not something Mikey should think too much about, except it’s hard, because Dylan’s collarbone is on display, and Mikey’s got this urge to— to do things he shouldn’t be thinking about doing to Dylan for more than a passing second, like nipping at skin and leaving marks.

But that’s not—

Dylan’s not his. This moment isn’t real, just a weird, half-asleep culmination of missing Nate and having to act like he and Dylan are something they aren’t; it’s fine, really, that Mikey’s attracted to Dylan, because Dylan’s attractive, if you look from the right angles and squint, or just know how to appreciate things.

Mikey’s been attracted to Dylan before.

It’s just never left him with this weird aching feeling in his chest before, a hole that’s either Dylan- or Nate-shaped, and it’s scary that he can’t tell which one it’s supposed to be.

But Mikey has a boyfriend. Mikey loves his boyfriend. If Mikey stopped loving him, he would—

The whole Dylan situation would be awful, but it wouldn’t be so fucking confusing. Mikey would know that there’s an actual Dylan situation, at least, if he didn’t love Nate.

It doesn’t clear anything up, but at least it’s—

At least there’s—

At least Mikey knows there’s an ‘at least’ somewhere in that.

……

The second fake dating study session ends up being one of the most miserable afternoons of Mikey’s life.

He can’t even pinpoint why, even; he just feels weird the whole time, and Mikey _hates_ feeling weird, especially around Dylan. He keeps trying to find something that makes him feel centered, like the feeling of Dylan’s palm in his or the fact that he’s wearing his emergency still-smells-like-Nate hoodie, but nothing feels right. He’s antsy and not in the mood to be grilled about a relationship he’s not in, which is pretty unfortunate, considering he’s being paid to do exactly that.

It’s a different woman interviewing them this time, and Mikey just— he doesn’t like her, doesn’t like the way she takes long pauses before she asks them questions, doesn’t like the way she looks at her clipboard all judgmental as she jots down notes.

“So,” she says, “did you guys follow the instructions you were given last time?”

Mikey had forgotten about the fact that they weren’t supposed to share a bed, because he’d assumed that it wouldn’t be a problem, considering they never shared a bed. He’d feel worse lying about it if he weren’t already lying about this whole thing, and if he had any more room in his body left for feeling bad.

“Yes,” Dylan lies easily, and it’s so convincing that Mikey wonders if Dylan legitimately forgot that last night happened. That’s not unlikely, considering falling asleep in the same bed by accident shouldn’t be a big deal, no matter what Mikey’s brain says about it.

“I’ve been crashing on his couch,” Mikey chimes in. “His roommates were a little confused, but okay with it.”  

“Right, you’re technically in student housing, and it says here Mr. Strome has an apartment,” she says. “But you spend most nights there?”

“Yeah,” Mikey says, his face already feeling hot with anger.

“Would you consider it more of a residence than your dormitory?” she asks.

“Maybe,” Mikey says. “Why are you asking it like that?”

“Mikey,” Dylan says, giving him a concerned look.

“I didn’t mean to imply anything with my tone,” she says, but Mikey doesn’t believe her for a second. “We’re trying to examine how the stresses of informal cohabitation situations can affect relationships.”

“There’s no stress on our relationship because of it,” Mikey says. “I stay there, I’m not on the lease, I can go back to my dorm, but the bed’s small and the WiFi is crap and he’s got a kitchen, alright?”

“Okay,” she says calmly, writing down a few more things, and Mikey is fuming, not even sure why. He shouldn’t be this fucking defensive over a relationship that’s not even real, but— everything feels fucked up, slightly off its axis, and suddenly, Mikey feels like he’s in way over his head.

Dylan, because he’s Dylan, puts a hand on Mikey’s knee, and that makes things feel a little better. Enough that Mikey lets Dylan take the lead on the questions for the rest of the meeting, feeling dumb and pathetic for sulking like a pissed-off teenager, but he can’t help it. He feels fucking awful, and has no clue why, and not even Dylan can make him feel better completely.

What Mikey needs right now is Nate, and he feels a little guilty about that, but whatever. He’s allowed to be needy sometimes. He’s allowed to need Dylan sometimes, and Nate other times, and neither one of those things means he’s actually going to get what he needs.

“Hey,” Dylan says, dropping Mikey’s hand the second they get out of that office, and for the first time, Mikey is happy to not be touching him. “What’re you up to right now?”

“I was gonna go to the library,” Mikey says. “I have a test coming up.” It’s probably true, even though Mikey doesn’t know for sure. He tends to be a night-before kind of studier, but he doubts Dylan would call him out for getting a head start on studying for the first time in his college career. Maybe he’ll assume it’s Davo’s influence, if he even notices at all.

“Did you wanna come by the shop instead?” Dylan says. “I could hook you up with free coffee.”

Mikey sees what Dylan’s trying to do, and he appreciates it so fucking much that he almost feels like crying a little, but he just— he can’t be around Dylan, right now.

“I’m overcaffeinated as is,” Mikey lies. “Thanks, though.”

Dylan’s face falls a little at that, but it’s back to an easy, reassuring smile in a second.

Mikey probably doesn’t deserve a friend like Dylan. Or, actually— no one really deserves a friend like Dylan. It’s not the kind of thing people _deserve._ Friendship with Dylan Strome is one of the better things in this world, in Mikey’s opinion, up there with puppies and sunsets and Nate’s smile on the list of things that are inexplicably good and somehow a part of his life.

That thought doesn’t make it any easier to be around Dylan right now, is the thing, so Mikey spends the rest of the day at the library, until he feels normal enough to go back to Dylan’s apartment and plant himself on the couch, vaguely wondering if he’s going to spend a night in the dorms at any point before graduation.

……

Things go back to being normal pretty easily after that.

Not that they ever really stopped being normal, but they certainly teetered on the edge of weirdness before deciding to drop back into comfortable territory. It’s where Mikey and Dylan are best together; being uncomfortable isn’t something they’re used to, and every time they’ve come close to that, they’ve managed to dodge it. It’s just better that way, makes it easier on Mikey’s conscience, or—

Whatever.

“Do you know what I hate?” Mikey says, FaceTiming Nate from his phone as he lies upside-down on Dylan’s bed. “That you’re too far away to come to this party with me tonight.”

“We’re seeing each other in two weeks,” Nate says. “You’ll be fine.”

“But I miss your stupid dimple,” Mikey whines.

Nate turns his face, points to his cheek. “It’s right here.”

Mikey pokes at the screen of his phone, but, as he expected, Nate isn’t there to swat at his hand and giggle and call him a weirdo.

“Not the same,” Mikey says. “I wanna hug you and stuff.”

“If you need a hug, find Stromer,” Nate says, and Mikey ignores the way his stomach does something weird at the suggestion. It’s only a split second, anyway; it’s the kind of thing he can justifiably ignore.

“What about the other stuff?”

“What other stuff are you talking about?” Nate says, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. “Actually, don’t answer that, you’re at Dylan’s.”

Mikey pouts. “I can _talk_ about stuff. It’s not like he’s here.”

“You’re a terrible houseguest,” Nate says. “Apartment-guest. Whatever. He graciously invited you into his home, and you repay him by having phone sex?”

“It’s not phone sex if I don’t get off,” Mikey says.

“Yes it is,” Nate says. “Especially if I get off.”

Mikey shivers a little bit, and feels his face go bright red red at the thought, which is probably a sign that Nate’s right.

“Fine,” he says. “We’re probably gonna start to pregame soon, anyway.”

As if on cue, Stromer bursts into the room, vodka in one hand while the other covers his eyes. “I know you’re FaceTiming Nate, so if you’re doing anything gross in my room, stop before I have to see it.”

“Relax,” Mikey says, unplugging his earbuds. “The only gross thing is whatever booze you bought.”

“It was on sale,” Dylan says defensively, putting it down on his desk before stripping off his shirt. Mikey pointedly looks away.

“What kind of vodka goes on sale?”

“It’s a seasonal flavor,” Dylan says.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything that sounds more terrifying than seasonally flavored vodka, so I’m going to need you to open that bottle immediately,” Mikey says.

“You don’t even know what the flavor is.”

“Don’t tell him,” Nate says quickly. “Make him guess.”

“That’s a good plan,” Dylan says. “One sec, lemme go get a shot glass.”

He finishes tugging on his shirt—presumably the one he’s deemed ‘nicer’, if he bothered to change at all—as he walks back out the door, and Mikey tries not to let his eyes linger too much on the skin of his back as it disappears.

“Have I mentioned that I miss you?” Mikey says, because he really, really does.

Nate gives him a sympathetic look. “Me too,” he says. “Not too long, though.”

“Always too long,” Mikey says, right as Dylan returns, but if he hears Mikey, he has the decency to not give him crap for being cheesy.

Mikey guesses the vodka as soon as he smells it, but Dylan makes him take the whole shot anyway, and then another, because Mikey just says pumpkin, when the actual flavor is pumpkin _spice._ It’s as gross as it sounds, but it does a decent enough job of getting Mikey and Dylan tipsy before they have to leave. Gross vodka is gross vodka, and, in Mikey’s opinion, all vodka is pretty gross.

It’s fine, though, gets them to the party, and then there’s better booze at the party, so Mikey can forgive Dylan for the shitty pregame.

Things are fine, for the most part— Mikey gets drunk, so does Dylan, they chill, they talk, whatever—

And then, for whatever reason, Spin the Bottle happens, which isn’t altogether unexpected, but is, as a general rule, a weird and dumb game that can make weird and dumb things happen.

Mikey and Nate have talked about it, actually. Nate’s cool with Mikey kissing people to avoid having to do a shot, because Spin the Bottle kisses don’t really matter or count in any meaningful way.

So, Mikey agrees to play, and it’s all fine until the bottle lands on Dylan.

The thing is—

There’s kissing guys at a party, because it’s fun and that’s what people do, and Mikey can handle that, knows that’s something he and Nate are okay with. Kisses are like, a greeting, just quick pecks that don’t have to mean anything, and that’s fine. It’s what college kids do, and it’s something Mikey’s done before, and that’s definitely not cheating, because he’s asked Nate, point-blank, if he minded if Mikey participated in shit like that, and Nate had said it was cool.

But there’s an underlying assumption that it’s cool because it doesn’t matter, and considering the way Mikey’s stomach reacts at the thought of kissing Dylan on the mouth, even in the context of a dumb party game—

Mikey can’t do it, not in good conscience, and if being honest with Nate means admitting to himself that there are lines he needs to redraw, then he’ll do it, because he doesn’t want to let guilt build up, doesn’t want to do something he shouldn’t and feel like he’s found a loophole.

Because that’s what it is; it’s a loophole, a way to test some waters he shouldn’t be testing, and Mikey doesn’t want to do anything dishonest when it comes to Nate, especially if it involves Dylan, too.

It’s an ugly thought to have, but it’s the thing that gets him to tear his eyes away from Dylan’s, which are shining and almost pleading, even though Mikey thinks he’s not trying to ask for anything. Mikey can’t hold himself responsible for what Dylan wants, or what he wants, but he can hold himself responsible for what he does, so he makes the choice he thinks is right.

“I think I’ve gotta drink on this one,” Mikey says. “Sorry, bud.”

Something sad happens on Dylan’s face, and Mikey would very much like to wipe it away, but then he blinks and Dylan is Dylan again, normal, go-with-the-flow, painfully likable and easy to love as anything.

It’s hard, sometimes, being friends with him, even if it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Still, Mikey can tell that something’s off, because he can read Dylan way too well. There’s a careful distance between them for the rest of the night, and it’s not unusual for them to have weird moments, but usually they pass after a couple of minutes.

He doesn’t bring it up at the party, though, waits until they’re walking home in painfully awkward silence, Dylan frowning at the ground and kicking at pebbles. It’s the opposite of subtle, really.

“You’re mad about spin the bottle,,” Mikey says, because sometimes the best way to deal with Dylan is directly.

“No I’m not,” Dylan lies.  

“Dyl—”

“Why would I be mad?” Dylan says. “I get it, it was just a dumb game, you shouldn’t have to kiss anyone you don’t want to.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Mikey says.

“Yes,” Dylan snaps. “I’m making valid points, if I do say so myself.”

“I’m talking about tone, not content,” Mikey says.

“I don’t know what—”

“You’re mad,” Mikey says. “Dude. Don’t get passive aggressive with me, okay? That’s not what we do.”

“Then what do we do?” Dylan says.

“We talk about shit,” Mikey says. “So we don’t get into dumb fights, because we’re best friends, remember?”

“Best friends don’t have to tell each other everything,” Dylan says.

“No, but if not talking about shit turns you into an asshole, then we might as well talk,” Mikey says. “I’m pretty sure that’s reasonable.”

“What’s there to talk about? It was a game of spin the bottle, who cares?” Dylan says.

“Dylan,” Mikey says, keeping his voice firm. “You’re mad at me. Stop being an idiot about it, and just admit it.”

“Fine, I’m fucking mad, happy?” Dylan says, and then he stops in his tracks, crosses his arms over his chest. The night feels a little colder, all of a sudden. “I don’t want to be, but I am.”

“Alright,” Mikey says, stuffing his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. Dylan feels too far away all of a sudden.

After a few beats of silence, Dylan says, “I know you have Nate, but— you kissed other guys. I’m just saying.”

“I— yeah,” Mikey says, because it’s true, but he doesn’t know how to explain it, doesn’t want to lie and say something that’ll hurt Dylan’s feelings, either.

“It’s a little embarrassing, is all,” Dylan says. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, but— I dunno. You really didn’t want to kiss _me,_ in particular.”

The thing is, Mikey did want to kiss Dylan.

Mikey _does_ want to kiss Dylan.

And the thing is, also, that it would mean something, at least in Mikey’s head.

But he can’t say that out loud, because admitting to that is a little too close to confessing something else. Maybe it’s the same as confessing that, actually. These days, Mikey isn’t sure what he should feel bad about half the time, and it’s getting harder to work out what’s happening in his head when Dylan’s around the longer the fake dating thing goes on.

“It’s just that you’re different,” Mikey says, and he squeezes Dylan’s hand.

He’s not sure if Dylan gets it, and he’s not sure if he wants him to get it, but he sees something change in his expression, and the anger drains from him.

“Alright,” Dylan says. “I mean, I know, but—”

“It’s just, y’know. Whatever,” Mikey says, already feeling like he’s said too much, even though he hasn’t actually said much of anything at all.

They stand there for a moment, not saying anything, staring at the ground as Mikey desperately wishes he could do something about his hands with the way Dylan’s standing there, an incomplete thought he refuses to make whole.

Dylan’s the one to break the silence, his voice only the slightest bit off. “Let’s just forget the whole part where I got mad and just— go home, yeah?”

“Already forgotten,” Mikey says, lingering just a bit on the way Dylan says _home_ so easily, like his space is Mikey’s to share, and like that’s the obvious part of it all.

……

For the next few weeks, Mikey doesn’t let himself think about it.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to, so much as he doesn’t think it’s worth it; Nate is his boyfriend, and Dylan is his best friend, and those are two things that Mikey is not willing to give up. Plus, whatever weirdness he’s going through with Dylan doesn’t count if he doesn’t dwell on it for too long, so he can let the thoughts happen as long as they don’t linger, which doesn’t technically count as denial.

One of the big things Mikey’s learned from being in an actual real relationship for a long-ass time is that relationships don’t prevent, like, crushes, and stuff. He loves Nate, would choose him over anyone else in a heartbeat, no questions asked, but he’s also a human being. Sometimes he thinks about sex with other people when he’s jerking off, sometimes he flirts very slightly with the cute girl in his lecture because she has a nice laugh, whatever. It’s not that he doesn’t love Nate as much as he should. He just also happens to like other people too, and the only reason he lets himself do it is _because_ he’s so sure he loves Nate.

The Dylan thing is a little different from that, but not by much, just— Mikey’s redrawing his boundaries, a little.

Like, he talks about Nate a lot when he’s with Dylan, and vice-versa, because it doesn’t weigh on him as much if he reminds Dylan that he has a boyfriend, or reminds Nate that he and Dylan are really, really close. It’s a transparency thing, a way to consciously avoid keeping secrets from either of them.

He also calls Nate more, goes back to his dorm to do it too, because privacy and alone time are important. Nate’s always been one of the first people he turns to when he needs to talk about something—vent or celebrate or whatever—but Mikey makes him _the_ first person, doesn’t let Dylan wear that crown for a bit.

Mikey is trying, he really is, even if he’s not sure what exactly it is that he’s trying to do. Reorganize the people in his life, maybe. Make sure he doesn’t let anyone get hurt because of him.

It doesn’t really change all that much, but it seems manageable, at least for now.

……

It starts out like any normal phone call, is the thing—Mikey and Nate catching up, talking about the things they’re currently putting off, whatever—but Nate seems a little off the entire time they’re talking, distracted and fidgety and just— nervous.

“Hey, is everything, like, okay?” Mikey says.

And then, instead of the generic reassurances Mikey’s expecting, Nate says:

“You’re not gonna break up with me for Dylan, are you?”

Mikey blinks, the words barely registering. “What?” he asks, and— Nate’s turning red fast, and Mikey’s so confused, and a little upset, and really just has no idea what to make of this. Nate hadn’t even sounded mad, just scared and frantic, and Mikey would like nothing more than to reach through his shitty laptop screen and hold his hand.

“I don’t know,” Nate says. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m just— are you?”

“No,” Mikey says, the word almost catching in his throat, like his body thinks that if he’s not in a position where he has to tell Nate this, it’s like it’s not happening. “No, of course not, god. What the fuck?”

“It’s— I don’t know,” Nate says. “I just— I really don’t want you to.”

“Why would you even think that I would?” Mikey might be sick. He might literally, actually throw up, can feel the acid burning in his throat already, and there are tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, because this isn’t how things are between them. They don’t worry like this, not in the way that they keep to themselves until they can’t hold into it anymore.

“You’ve just been doing the whole— y’know, the fake dating thing,” Nate says.

“But that’s— it’s for a study,” Mikey says, because he can’t quite say _it’s fake,_ for some reason. “I’m not cheating on you. I wouldn’t. I _couldn’t,_ jesus.”

“Okay,” Nate says, and he sounds so fucking small. “I know, and I trust you.”

“Do you?” Mikey says, before he can stop himself. He knows it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as it’s out of his mouth, and Nate just goes from scared to horrified.

“I do, I do, god, I promise,” Nate says. “Fuck, I’m fucking this up.”

“What’s going on, Nate?” Mikey says, a little quiet. “Do you— just, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Nate says.

“Well, if you wanna figure it out, feel free to think out loud,” Mikey says, because he always wants to know what’s going on in Nate’s head, and Nate’s good about letting him in.

“It’s just— y’know. I love you,” Nate says.

“I love you too,” Mikey says back, because it’s the biggest truth in the world, something he _knows_ in a bone-deep, absolute way. “I _love_ you so fucking much, and I don’t get why we’re even talking about—” He gulps. “I can’t even— is something wrong? Did I do something to make it seem like I’d do that?”

“No, god, you’re perfect,” Nate says. “It’s just— I’m not there, and he is.”

“That’s not new,” Mikey says.

“But something’s changed,” Nate says. “And it’s fine, I just— I’m adjusting, and I wanted to… make sure.”

“I don’t think any amount of change would ever lead to me breaking up with you,” Mikey says, and despite every weird impulse he’s ever felt around Dylan, and every pang of Dylan-related guilt that’s ever rung in his chest, he means it, because he wouldn’t break up with Nate unless he stopped loving him, and that’s just not something he can envision.

“I guess,” Nate says, and he doesn’t sound sure. It feels like the world around Mikey is crumbling.

“Nate—”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Nate says. “Not that— it’s just, like, I’m not just jealous, and I’m not mad, but I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Can you try?” Mikey’s begging; he’s nowhere close to above it, not when it’s about this. “Please? For me?”

“I don’t know how to tell you in a way that doesn’t sound… wrong, or something,” Nate says.

Mikey is crying now; he’s an ugly crier, and this is an ugly cry, lost and whimpering and desperate. “We can call off the study,” he says. “If you need me to, we can—”

“Please don’t,” Nate says. “I’d feel bad, please, don’t—”

“It’s just a dumb experiment,” Mikey says.

“It’s money,” Nate says. “Real money. Please, it’s not— nothing’s wrong, you haven’t done anything wrong, stopping wouldn’t change anything back.”

“Back to what?” Mikey says.

“I just think you and Dylan have something going,” Nate says, squeezing his eyes shut as he does. “And not in a— not even that it’s a bad thing, or— like—”

“We’re not doing anything,” Mikey says. “Nate, I wouldn’t—”

“I fucking _know,”_ Nate says. “I know, and I’m not mad or hurt, just— fuck. The whole point of this was that I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

“Why?” Mikey says.

“Because people can turn shitty when they get guilty,” Nate says. “And I just— I didn’t want you to think I’d hold it against you for having… feelings, or whatever.”

“I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Nate says. “I just really— I want you to be happy, and it’s like— Dylan’s the only other person who really—”

“Who really?” Mikey prompts.

“He’s Dylan,” Nate says, shrugging a little helplessly. “He’d do anything for you.”

“Because we’ve known each other forever,” Mikey says. “He’s like my brother.”

Nate shakes his head, and even manages something of a smile, even though not much feels funny. “I’ve met your brothers,” he says. “He’s different, Mikey.”

“But—” Mikey falters, because he’s not sure how he can explain it, how just because things with Dylan are a little too close, Mikey’s been so careful to not let himself slide into something he’d have to hide from Nate.

“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” Nate says. “I was just freaking out.”

“I love you,” Mikey says, because even when it feels like words are slipping away from him, those are the last to go.

“I love you too,” Nate says. “This is just— complicated. I should’ve prepared, or— I don’t know.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Mikey’s breath is steadily shaking with every exhale. There’s an ugly tear in the fabric of their relationship, or at least, in Mikey’s understanding of their relationship, and Mikey would like nothing more than to hold it together with his bare hands.

He can’t, though, because he’s here, and all he gets is a flat, digital, blurry version of the person he loves.

“We should hang up,” he says, because he can’t look at him anymore, doesn’t know how to continue this conversation if he doesn’t know where it’s gonna end.

“Probably,” Nate says, and he sounds like he doesn’t want to. “God, I— I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too.” Mikey feels small, hollow, scared in parts of him that have never been scared before.

“You gonna hang up?” Nate asks.

Mikey shakes his head. “In a bit.”

“Okay,” Nate says, and then again, a little quieter, “Okay.”

It’s a few minutes before they end the call, but they don’t say anything else, just sit there silently until Mikey feels like he’s gone from breaking to broken, like there’s nothing left to do but say goodbye and hope his heart doesn’t shatter the second he ends the call.

And then Mikey just… sits. Doesn’t think. Feels numb and awful and absolutely shattered, feels himself sinking into Dylan’s couch, feels seconds slipping by, dragging everything he’s ever loved farther and farther from him until he hears the sound of a key turning in the lock.

He should leave, and he knows it— it’s been at least an hour since the call ended, a call he shouldn’t have had in someone else’s apartment in the first place, and if his world is going to fall apart, he shouldn’t leave Dylan to clean up the debris.

But the door opens anyway, and Mikey still can’t quite move, so.

“Mikey?” Dylan calls.

Mikey doesn’t answer; he opens his mouth to, but his throat feels too dry, like there are cobwebs in it, or something.

“Hey, thought I saw your shoes by the door,” Dylan says, walking into the living room. “What’s up?”

Mikey just shrugs, shoulders heavy.

“Mikey,” Dylan says carefully, sitting down next to him on the couch, and Mikey is grateful when he doesn’t get too close. He’s too fragile to be touched; Dylan can usually sense stuff like that pretty well, thankfully.

God, Mikey is a mess.

“Nate and I fought,” he says, and his voice is hoarse with hours-old tears.

Dylan’s immediately next to Mikey on the couch, an arm wrapped around him, and Mikey doesn’t _deserve_ this. Dylan is the reason everything’s falling apart inside of him right now; Dylan is the thing that Mikey fucked up, that’s fucking him up, and Mikey shouldn’t be able to get comfort from him right now.

But this hurts, _everything_ hurts, and he may not deserve this, but damn if he doesn’t need it.

“You’ll be okay,” Dylan says. “It’ll be okay. Whatever happened, it’ll be okay.”

“It’s not even— he’s not _mad_ ,” Mikey says. “It’s just, like— fuck. I don’t know, it’s so fucking complicated.”

“Well, things that are worth it are hard, sometimes,” Dylan says gently.

“Not this,” Mikey says. “Not me and Nate.”

“That’s such a fucking lie,” Dylan says. “Just because you’ve figured out ways around the hard parts, doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Like, you’re long distance. That’s fucking hard.”

“Not really,” Mikey says. “Or— I don’t know. Not anymore, I guess.”

“You’ve worked things out before,” Dylan says. “Really difficult stuff. And you’ll work this out, too.”

“I hope so, but— god, I think I fucked it up.”

“Do you wanna talk about why?”

And part of Mikey does, because Dylan is sitting so close and he’s so warm and Mikey is terrified of how much he likes being here with him, but even though he has so many questions, he’s afraid of how Dylan would answer. He doesn’t know how to begin saying, _I don’t know how to love you and feel okay about it now that I can’t pretend it’s not happening,_ and _Nate is afraid I love you more than I love him, and I’m afraid I love you as much as I love him,_ and _I’m going to lose either you or Nate, and I don’t know how to live without you both._

“I can’t,” Mikey says. “Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_.”

“Hey, dude, breathe,” Dylan says. “You’ll be okay, okay? Whatever happens— you’ll be okay. I promise.”

It’s not Dylan’s promise to make, but Mikey lets him make it anyway,

“I don’t know what to do,” Mikey says.

“Well, what do you want to do?”

Mikey squeezes his eyes shut. “I want to just— I want to see him,” Mikey says. “Face to face. I want him to be here, or I want to be there, or— I just, like— I miss him so fucking _much,_ jesus.”

“Aren’t you seeing him soon?”

“This weekend, we were supposed to,” Mikey says. He doesn’t know if Nate still wants to, even if they haven’t ended things. It’s all too fragile.

“Okay, well, it’s Thursday,” Dylan says, and Mikey’s gonna say that a day is still too long to be apart, too long to let this rest, but Dylan is standing up and holding out a hand to Mikey.

“What?” Mikey asks.

“It’s Thursday, and you don’t have classes Friday,” Dylan says.

“But we have the—”

“The study doesn’t matter,” Dylan says. “It’s— whatever. They’ll let us reschedule, and if they don’t, they don’t. We can say it’s a family emergency, or something.”

Honestly, calling this a ‘family emergency’ is closer to the truth than most of the things they’ve said in meetings. “I can’t get a bus right now,” Mikey says.

“No shit,” Dylan says. “I’m driving.”

“Dude, no.”

“Dude, yeah,” Dylan says. “I have a car, and it’s only, like, a couple of hours.”

“It’s four hours each way if there’s traffic, which there will be,” Mikey says. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” Dylan says. “Or, deciding, really. We’re going.”

“Dylan—”

“We’re _going,_ Mikey,” Dylan says, firm, hand still outstretched, and Mikey finds himself taking it in his own and nodding, because trusting Dylan when he’s this sure is a reflex, and Dylan’s never let him down when it counts.

……

It’s a little anticlimactic when Mikey sleeps through the first hour of the drive.

In his defense, he needs it. Sadness is exhausting, and Mikey’s a generally happy person, so his misery muscles don’t get put to use that often. He’s a little out of practice at this whole heartbreak business, which is probably a good sign for the rest of his life, but right now, means that all it takes is a solid cry and a quiet car to put him right to sleep.

“Sorry,” Mikey says, blinking his eyes open. The car air is stale, and he feels like a fucking wreck. “Are we there?”

“Nah, we have a little bit to go,” Dylan says.

“Then why’d you wake me up?” Mikey says, turning down the radio. “Do you want me to chip in gas money, or something?”

“Wh— no, what, that’s— I was just thinking.”

Mikey scrunches his nose; he’s still very much asleep. “Weird.”

“Fuck off,” Dylan says. “Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Mikey says. “You were thinking?”

“About the Nate thing,” Dylan says.

“What about it?” Mikey’s suddenly a little more awake, aware of what’s happening and why he’s in Dylan’s car right now and what they’re going to try and do and all the things Nate said that Dylan doesn’t—

“Call him,” Dylan says.

Mikey blinks. “What?”

“Just— make sure your romantic surprise doesn’t go horribly wrong,” Dylan says. “Like, if he’s asleep, or if he had the same idea.”

“That’s so not romantic,” Mikey says.

“It’s practical,” Dylan says.

“Romance isn’t practical,” Mikey says. “Or, at least, not when I’m the one doing the romance.”

“Fine, then we’re pulling over so I can call him instead, how’s that?” Dylan says.

“No,” Mikey whines.

“Yes,” Dylan says, whining right back, because he’s awful. “Besides, I need a cup of coffee anyway.”

“No you don’t,” Mikey grumbles. “You’re just gonna complain that Timmies isn’t as good as your dumb hipster coffee.”

“I would never,” Dylan says, as if he hasn’t turned into a total coffee snob in a matter of months.

They end up pulling into a service station a few miles down the highway, and Dylan apparently has a pretty bad coffee craving, because he ends up dialing Nate’s number and shoving the phone into Mikey’s hands before doing this tired half-jog over to the McDonald’s line.

It rings and rings and rings, and Mikey kind of holds his breath as it does, and just when he expects it to go to voicemail, there’s a “Hello?” at the other end.

It’s Nate’s voice, and Mikey would answer, except his eye’s landed on something.

Or, no— it’s landed on someone. A guy, tall, brown hair, wearing a jacket that looks a lot like the one Mikey’s mom bought for Matt a few years ago that Matt refused to wear, and Mikey and Ryan shared for a while. Mikey hasn’t seen that jacket in a few months, but until this moment, he’d been about 80% sure it was at Ryan and Nate’s school somewhere.

And, well— now he’s 100% sure.

His back is turned to Mikey, but Mikey knows it’s him, starts walking over before he can even think about it, and it’s surreal, because this is fucking— this is ridiculous, this is fate, this is the single most Mikey-and-Nate thing that’s ever happened to them, there’s no way—

“Look, I don’t know if this is actually Stromer, or Mikey on Stromer’s phone, but either way, I’m, uh, heading over there, so if that’s a bad idea—”

“Fuck,” Mikey says. He keeps expecting Nate to disappear at some point, but he just— solidifies, becomes clearer and more solid in Mikey’s vision, and it’s Nate, it’s Mikey’s Nate, who chose to leave at the exact right time to arrive at this rest stop at the exact time Mikey did— the tinny voice over the phone is actually right here in this room, not worlds away like it usually is, and Mikey could cry, probably will, if he’s being honest.

“Mikey,” Nate says. “Listen, it’s okay if—”

“That was a good ‘fuck’,” Mikey says quickly, and it’s definitely breathy. “Fuck as in, like, holy _fuck.”_

“What?” Nate says.

Mikey considers leaving Nate hanging for a second—because it honestly would be hilarious if he managed to sneak up on Nate, maybe even do the thing where he taps his right shoulder and leans left—but he doesn’t have the energy to be cute about this, so he just says, “Dude, turn the fuck around,” and Nate does.   

Mikey fucking books it across the room the second they lock eyes, and Nate runs to meet him halfway, because fight or no fight, they’re fucking in love, and Mikey hasn’t had his hands on Nate in forever. He’s missed him so much, so much, so, _so_ much.

“What the fuck,” Nate says, wrapping Mikey in his arms, and Mikey would jump on him if he had the energy, but right now, he needs to just be enveloped in Nate’s warmth. There’s so much he’d forgotten, like the way Nate’s hands fit on his face, the way Nate likes to press his nose into Mikey’s hair, the way Nate makes everything feel like it’s gonna be okay.

“This is next level,” Mikey says, a little choked up. “Fuck, bro, this is some soulmate shit.”

“It really is,” Nate says.

Mikey is pretty sure he’s never letting go of Nate, and he’s got a billion things he’s worried about and all these fears swirling around in his head and his heart, but Nate’s _here,_ touching him, and right now, this is all Mikey wants, all he needs, all he cares about.

“Aww,” a voice—Dylan’s voice—says. Mikey would look up to check, but he’s not giving up a millimeter of Nate at any point for the foreseeable future. “I mean, what the fuck, but, aww.”

“Hey, Stromer, look what I found,” Mikey says.

“I’m assuming you guys arranged this telepathically,” Dylan says.

“Actually, no,” Nate says. “I think this might just be a coincidence.”

“Or magic, or the power of love,” Mikey says.

“You guys are absurd,” Dylan says, and it occurs to Mikey for one panicked second that this is Dylan and Nate, which is— his two favorite people ever, for sure, but also—

It just is a little weird, Mikey thinks, that Nate is just— talking to Dylan like normal, smiling, like earlier hadn’t happened. He’s not really sure how he feels about it, but Nate doesn’t seem upset, so he’s pretty sure he’s on board, if a little confused.

“Everything’s absurd,” Mikey says. “We should probably go, though.”

“Yeah,” Nate says. “Uh. Where?”

“Um,” Mikey says, turning to look at Dylan. “I don’t— Dyl, uh, drove me here, so—”

“I guess I’ll save some money on gas,” Dylan says, and he doesn’t even look mildly annoyed about this. He looks pleased, and there’s maybe a little bit of something sad underpinning it, but it’s too buried under genuine joy for it to register strongly. “Also, I’ll get home and go to sleep at, like, a more reasonable hour.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Mikey says.

“Of course,” Dylan says, and Mikey doesn’t know if it’s the whole truth, but he can’t help but believe it, when Dylan looks so earnest.

“Thank you,” Nate says. “You sure you’re not too tired to drive?”

Dylan taps his coffee cup. “I’ll be fine. Mikey’s the sleepy one.”

“Good thing I’m not getting behind the wheel, then,” Mikey says.

They say their goodbyes in the parking lot, Mikey and Dylan doing a weird bro-hug that feels just the slightest bit stilted, but that’s hardly unexpected. Things are still a bit raw, but at least Mikey doesn’t quite feel like the world is about to end anymore. He’s just got some repairs to make, is all.

“I’m sorry,” Mikey blurts out, as he climbs into the passenger seat of Nate’s car. “About— Stromer driving me, or whatever. He was just gonna drop me off at yours, it wasn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Nate says, and he sounds like he means it.

“Still,” Mikey says. “I’m sorry.”

“Was Dylan really going to drive you eight hours?” Nate says.

“Only four,” Mikey says.

“Four each way,” Nate says. “That’s a lot of driving.”

“I don’t—”

“It’s fine,” Nate says. “I’m just saying.”

Mikey’s quiet for a second. “I didn’t tell him anything. I mean, he knows we— not that he was— y’know.”

“I figured,” Nate says.

“There was just— I don’t have a car, and—”

“Mikey,” Nate says, putting a hand over his. “It’s fine, really. I was just pointing out that that’s a long time to spend driving someone else around.”

“Okay,” Mikey says, because he knows it is, just— he knows Dylan loves to go the extra mile to make him happy, and has gotten used to letting it happen, and he tries not to let himself feel guilty about it, but he knows it’s not exactly normal.

“I love you a lot,” Nate says, casual, but still firm. Just the way Mikey needs, right now. “I trust you, and I love you. Alright?”

And maybe launching himself across the dashboard to give Nate an awkward hug isn’t Mikey’s smoothest idea, but Nate doesn’t seem surprised, just runs a hand up and down Mikey’s back as Mikey says, “I’ve missed you so much, god, I— I love you too. So much.”

“Good,” Nate says, and Mikey doesn’t think he’s imagining the way it sounds the slightest bit relieved. “Let’s just go back to my room and not have any difficult conversations for a while, okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” Mikey says, reluctantly disentangling most of himself from Nate so he can start the car and stuff, but leaving a hand on his leg, because the touch feels grounding, and Mikey desperately needs it.

……

Mikey loves sleeping in the same bed as Nate.

Nate is a very good sleeper, doesn’t kick or snore or get too hot, and he’s very agreeable to being cuddled. It’s not exactly a secret that Mikey’s an affectionate guy when he’s awake, and he’s been informed by Nate that he’s even worse when he sleeps. Honestly, it wasn’t until he started sharing a bed with Nate on a semi-regular basis that he realized there were people capable of falling asleep without some sort of snuggling going on— he’d kind of assumed that that’s why adults always had a bajillion pillows on their beds, and why kids had stuffed animals. One of those weird, evolutionary things that’s definitely fake. Cavemen needed to stay warm, so they hugged each other, and now, Mikey gets to spoon his boyfriend. That’s science, right there.  

So, the morning gets off to a good start, but from the second Mikey wakes up, he can feel the conversation coming.

At first, Mikey thinks about putting it off for as long as he can, but honestly— he shouldn’t, and he doesn’t want to, at this point. This whole thing is so confusing, and it’s been weighing on him for months. Maybe that’s why he’d been so tired last night— there’s so much to sort through, and he’s only really just started.

It’s daunting, thinking about talking about it, but at the same time, Mikey can’t put this off anymore. They’re together, on solid ground, and so, when Nate runs out to get them coffee, Mikey thinks about what he’s going to say, tries to sort his feelings into concrete thoughts.

“I got us muffins, too,” Nate says when he comes back, tray of coffee in hand. “Y’know. Food.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” Mikey says. “People seem to really love it.”

“Well, it gives you energy, so,” Nate says, handing Mikey a paper bag, which he gratefully accepts.

“Energy is good,” Mikey says. “You need it to do stuff, like walk around, or put off homework, or… y’know. Talk about things.”

“Right,” Nate says, his voice sounding thin and almost sharp. “Talking is… important.”

“Sure is,” Mikey says.

Neither of them says anything for a minute, nervous energy filling the room, until Mikey can’t handle it anymore.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Is what okay?”

“Us talking about it,” Mikey says. “Like, now.”

“I mean—”

“It’s okay if it’s not,” he adds hastily. “I just figured, like, we should—”

“No, I mean— like, yeah, we should, I just— you don’t have to, if you don’t know what to say, I guess. I mean, I don’t— I don’t know what I’d say, if you don’t know.”

“I— I think I do,” Mikey says. “Know, I mean.”

“Alright,” Nate says.

Mikey takes a deep breath in, lets it out, looks at Nate, at his feet. “So, uh. Yesterday, when you asked if I was going to— to break up with you for Stromer— I’m not. I really— I promise, I don’t want to do that, and— you know I’ve never kept a secret from you, and I wouldn’t keep something like that a secret from you now, I promise.”

“I know,” Nate says. “And I believe you, just. For the record.”

“Okay, cool,” Mikey says.

“Cool,” Nate echoes.

Another silence, another inhale, another exhale.

“I love you,” Mikey says. “But I think I also—” He bites his lip, then shrugs, and he can’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. He can see it on Nate’s face, the second it registers, and then, Nate _knows._ He knows that Mikey loves him and someone else. He knows that Mikey is in love with both of his best friends.

Mikey hasn’t done anything wrong, hasn’t stopped loving Nate with his whole self, except— there’s also Dylan, who matters too much, and who Mikey can’t stop thinking about kissing. It’s messy to love like this, to have his heart tangled up in two people. He knows it’s not fair to ask them to share; it’s also not fair to want Dylan the way he does and act like it’s something else. He can’t do that to Nate, or to Dylan, or to himself, for that matter.

Nate loves him, and Mikey knows it, but he also knows this is a lot. Mikey’s heart is too big, and he’s got too much love to share. Nate didn’t sign up to be the center of a solar system with two suns.

“Hey,” Nate says gently, and Mikey realizes that he’s been staring at his own frozen hands for a while. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I love you so much,” Mikey says, his voice cracking. “I wouldn’t have— I couldn’t hurt you, I _couldn’t._ ”

“I mean, you could,” Nate says.

Mikey can’t fucking breathe. “I couldn’t,” he says, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t, I— Nate, _fuck._ I can’t— I love you, and just because— it’s not—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Nate says.

“I love you as much now as I always have,” Mikey says. “It’s not— I’m not trying to apologize, I just— I need you to know that, Nate, I just— I need you to.”

Nate is quiet for a second. “I don’t like knowing that you chose me over someone else.”

“Please don’t break up with me,” Mikey says.

“I’m not,” Nate says, but it doesn’t feel like a complete thought; Mikey can’t figure out what else is going on in his head.

“I didn’t even really choose you over him,” Mikey says. “I didn’t choose any of this, it just— love, y’know? There’s just— you, and also him, and I just— I don’t know how to give you what you deserve.”

“It’s not about deserving things,” Nate says quickly. “I just want you to be happy, Mikey.”

There is too much love in Mikey’s heart right now for there to be any room for happiness. It’s all so loud, trailing around guilt and regret and unshakable traces of hope in looping, criss-crossing paths that Mikey can’t follow.

“Being your boyfriend makes me happy,” Mikey says. “Loving you makes me happy.”

“But Dylan—”

“Dylan doesn’t matter.”

“But he does,” Nate says. “He matters to you, a lot, and I—”

“He’s just my best friend,” Mikey says. “That’s what it was before, and then it can just— it can go back to that.”

“He makes you happy,” Nate says. “He gets you. I trust him to get you.”

“So what, you’re breaking up with me because you think he could make me happier?” Mikey says.

“No,” Nate says, almost frustrated. “I’m not breaking up with you, I’m just— what if you just loved both of us, and didn’t feel bad about it, and then we both loved you back and called it a day?”

“If we—” Mikey cuts himself off, his mind going blank.

“I don’t know,” Nate says, running a hand through his hair. “If you’re down, and he’s down, then— I’m down, I think. I’m down to try it out, anyway.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Mikey says. He can’t wrap his head around the fact that Nate is even offering this. “I’m your boyfriend, you shouldn’t have to share me just to keep me around.”

“I know,” Nate says. “It’s not about— I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought it was the only way around this. I wouldn’t have even brought it up, but—” He shrugs. “It feels… right, I guess?”

“What does that mean?” Mikey says.

“He’s always been important to you,” Nate says. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but— I was always gonna have to share you. A lot of people love you, just, like, not everyone loves you the same way.”

“But he would— like, if I were to— would you be okay if we did… boyfriend stuff?” Mikey doesn’t even know what Dylan wants; it feels bizarre to be having this conversation as if Dylan being even remotely on board is a safe assumption.

“I think I would be,” Nate says, looking at his hands, picking at the fabric of his jeans. “I wondered— if you two ever— and I got to thinking.”

“About what it would be like if me and Dylan…”

“If you guys hooked up,” Nate says. “It’s just, like— I don’t know, weird analogy, but it’s sort of like, I don’t get jealous if you jerk off, right? So if it was just— one other person, and it was someone I trusted, and I knew you still loved me, then it’s like— yeah.”

“I guess, yeah,” Mikey says, carefully tucking away the fact that Nate thought about him and Dylan having sex to examine in detail at a later date.

“It’s just, like— I can’t always be there, but you’re— like, I don’t know, you deserve the fucking world, for real. If something makes you happy, I want you to have it, and if it were anyone else, it’d be different, but— it’s him, y’know? I think we could make it work.”

Mikey bites his lip. “What if he says no?” he asks, and watches Nate’s face for any sign of hesitation, but he can’t find any.

It’s messed up. It _should_ be messed up. No one’s supposed to have the power to break Mikey’s heart besides Nate, except—

“Then we’ll eat ice cream and watch trashy movies until you feel better,” Nate says, and he sounds sure.

It should be weird, hearing his boyfriend talk about helping him get over someone else turning him down. That’s not what boyfriends do; that’s what best friends do in romantic comedies, or what Mikey’s mom did when missing Nate was a new sensation, at the very start of their relationship.

But the thing is, it doesn’t feel like it’s some contrived way of accommodating Mikey’s mess of a heart. It feels _right,_ because Dylan is his past, and Nate is his present, and there’s room for the both of them to be his future.

“I love you,” Mikey says. “I love you so much.”

“You also love him,” Nate says.

Mikey shakes his head. “Not as much as I love you right now.” Not that he thinks he could choose who he loves more if he tried, but he’s been allowed to love Nate for so much longer like this. It’s an ‘I love you’ that’s also ‘thank you’ and ‘I trust you’ and ‘we’re forever and I’m so, so grateful for it.’

“I just want you to be happy,” Nate says, and Mikey wonders if it really is that simple. Nate seems to think it is, and Nate tends to be right about these sorts of things, whatever they may be.

“You’re the greatest,” Mikey says, which is a little different from ‘I love you’, but not by much, and then he pulls Nate in for a hug, squeezes him like the only way Nate will believe that he actually is the greatest is if Mikey physically transmits the feeling through his fingertips.

He’s not sure he actually manages to do that, but Nate seems to get the message, judging by the smile pressed against Mikey’s mouth a few seconds later.

……

It takes Mikey a few days to bring it up to Dylan, and part of it is that he’s being cautious, but for the most part, it’s because he’s scared, which he thinks is understandable. This is a pretty scary thing.

Nate keeps telling him to just go for it, but it’s not Nate’s heart that will be broken if Dylan says no, and, sure, Mikey and Nate’s hearts break together always, but it’s different for him, and they both sort of know it.

It’s just—

It’s _Dylan._

Mikey thinks that alone is reason enough to be scared.

It’s not like he can exactly avoid him, is the thing; they have their rescheduled interview for the relationship study coming up, and Mikey tries to reason that it’s better to at least finish up the fake relationship before embarking on a real one until Nate points out that his logic literally makes no fucking sense.

In the end, the thing that pushes Mikey to have a conversation he is definitely scared to be having is Nate, because that’s what they do for each other. It’s sort of backwards, except for how it’s the least backwards thing in Mikey’s life. Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be, when you have a boyfriend who’s your best friend and a best friend you want to be your boyfriend; maybe having both of them be both is just what makes sense.

That doesn’t make the conversation any easier to start.

Mikey ends up doing that awful thing where he texts Dylan, _hey we should talk,_ and he feels bad about it, but he doesn’t know what else he could say instead. There are so many things he needs to tell Dylan at once, but he can only say one at a time, and he’s not really sure how to outline the things he’s about to say without just saying them over text, so he doesn’t really have many options.

So he goes over to Dylan’s, hands shaking a little as he opens the door, and he can see that Dylan is terrified the second he walks in.

“Hey,” Mikey says, in a failed last attempt at sounding calm. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Dylan says, and suddenly, being in the same room— everything’s so much more _real,_ now, the fear in his chest and on Dylan’s face managing to sync up perfectly. Mikey hadn’t even known there was a rhythm to fall in sync with, until now, but he feels the pulse of it in perfect unison.

“So, uh,” Mikey says, his mouth a little dry. “You know how I really love Nate?”

“Um,” Dylan says. “Sure?”

Mikey swallows the air in his mouth. He thinks he can actually feel his heart in the back of his throat, and worries for a second that he might puke it up all over Dylan’s gross rug, even if that makes no sense, because that’s definitely not how hearts work.

“So I also really love you,” Mikey says, trying to not let the words all string together, because he won’t be able to get them out a second time, if Dylan doesn’t hear him.

It ends up coming out a little fast anyway, but Dylan hears them, and then there’s just—

A moment. Loaded with possibility and uncertainty and tension that’s been building for god knows how long. A moment that carries every ounce of love that exists between Mikey and Dylan, and that’s a lot of love to have on display all at once, and it’s sort of like turning over his backpack at the end of a school year to see the crumpled mess of papers he promised himself he wouldn’t lose, stuck together with gum that snuck out of its wrapping before Mikey got a chance to chew it. It’s the ugly mess of things they haven’t dealt with, just the pile they’ve been adding to and ignoring, and maybe they could get away with never doing anything about it, but Mikey doesn’t want to do that anymore.

Mikey isn’t good at talking about his feelings, but he is good at turning over his backpack and letting the disaster fall to the ground. In this case, the disaster is his heart, and he’s watching Dylan stare at the mess. That makes the bewilderment easier to handle.

“What’s your point, then?” Dylan says, almost cold, but mostly numb. Mikey doesn’t hold it against him. He’s confused; Mikey would be too.

“I love you the same way I love my boyfriend,” Mikey says, just to make sure there’s no room for plausible deniability. “And I spent a long time feeling bad about it, and a long time wondering if it meant I didn’t love Nate anymore— but, like, I do, just. I also love you.”

“Okay,” Dylan says.

“And I guess—” Mikey says. “I just— it’s like… I love both of you a lot, and I realized I didn’t— I kept feeling like I was doing something wrong, but I didn’t really know why, because I wasn’t _doing_ anything, just— feeling.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Dylan says, turning his face so that Mikey can’t see it, but it doesn’t stop Mikey from hearing the quiver in his voice. “It’s not like you broke up with Nate, right?”

“That’s not—”

“I hope you didn’t,” Dylan says, cutting him off. “Because if you did, that’s not— even if I— you can’t break up with one person for another, Mikey, that’s not—”

“I didn’t break up with Nate,” Mikey says. “And he didn’t break up with me.”

“Good,” Dylan says, and his voice is almost too quiet, all of a sudden. Mikey’s never been able to read him less.

“But I still love you,” Mikey says.

“You have a boyfriend.”

“I’m aware,” Mikey says. “Just— let me finish, okay?”

“There’s more?” Dylan sounds almost bitter, and that’s how Mikey knows that things are as fragile as they could be right now.

“Yes,” Mikey says. “But I don’t— can you answer one question for me?”

“Is it if I love you back?”

Mikey wishes this were easier. “Am I that obvious?”

“It’s a reasonable question,” Dylan says.

There’s a stretch of silence, and Mikey waits, terrified and patient, idly daydreaming about all sorts of cartoonish interruptions that could make this less awkward. He thinks a good old-fashioned roadrunner-and-coyote race would do wonders to lighten the mood, right about now.

Finally, Dylan sighs. “Why do you want to know?”

“Why do you think?” Mikey says.

“Honestly?” Dylan says. “I don’t really know.”

“Dyl—”

“What did you expect to happen, Mikey?” Dylan says, suddenly a little furious. “I tell you I love you back, but you’re in a relationship, so we just— what, pine forever? You feel a bit better about loving someone who’s not your boyfriend knowing that at least it goes both ways?”

“No,” Mikey says. “It’s not like that, I— in what would would I want to make you that miserable?”

“I don’t know,” Dylan says, putting his face in his hands. “Maybe in the stupid world where you made me fall for you in the first place, even though you’ve already got a perfect boyfriend? And I get that you’re not leaving him any time soon, and I don’t want you to, even if—” Dylan lifts his head, his eyes looking a little distant, probably too far inside his own head. “Like, you and him are solid. He makes you _happy,_ and that’s— fuck, I don’t know. You and Nate are good, so whatever else might be happening— it’ll pass. Don’t— there’s so much that could go wrong. I don’t know what I’d do if things ended with you two because of me.”

“They’re not going to,” Mikey says. “Nate _knows_ , okay?”

“What?” Dylan says, visibly startling.

“He knows,” Mikey repeats. “He knows I’m in love with you, too.”

“Then why are you— are you here to, like, say goodbye, or something?” His voice sounds thin and breathy, on the verge of panic.

Mikey’s shaking his head before he can even think about it. He’s pretty sure he’ll never, ever say goodbye to Dylan, probably couldn’t, even if he wanted to. “It’s not like that,” Mikey says. “Nothing has to change, just—”

“You’re telling me you’re in love with me,” Dylan says. “Of course things are gonna change—”

“Can you let me finish?” Mikey says. “Nate knows, and he says he trusts me, and trusts you, and— he told me, like, a billion times, okay? It’s not— he’s not mad, or, like, jealous, just— fuck. Do you love me, or not?”

“I just don’t see why it matters,” Dylan says.

“Because I’m in love with my best friend, and I want to know if he loves me back!” Mikey’s about to tear his own hair out. He knows the answer, can hear it in the way Dylan’s dancing around it, but he needs the word, needs to hear it from Dylan’s mouth.

“I thought Nate was your best friend,” Dylan says, deflecting, of course.

“I can have more than one best friend.” Mikey doesn’t stomp his foot, but it’s a near-thing. “And I can be in love with more than one best friend.”

“No, Mikey, eventually you have to choose,” Dylan says, like he thinks he’s the first one to tell Mikey this, like Mikey’s being naive, or something.

“I don’t think so,” Mikey says. “Or, actually— no. I _know_ that’s not true. I love Nate, and Nate loves me, and I love you too, so if you could let me know if that’s a two-way thing, we could skip to the fucking happy ending part of it.”

“What happy ending?” Dylan says, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You have a _boyfriend.”_

“And I have room in my schedule for another,” Mikey snaps, which isn’t the most elegant way to bring up polyamory, but at some point, this conversation turned to bickering, and Mikey’s had enough of Dylan’s particular brand of cynicism.

“What the fuck,” Dylan says, but the heat’s gone from his voice, and he’s blinking like he hadn’t even realized that it was until he spoke.

“I told you,” Mikey says. “Nate trusts us. I trust us. So if you’re on board—”

“On board to what?” Dylan says. “To just— what? What are you—”

“It’s not like, sharing,” Mikey says. “Just— you can have more than one friend. You can have more than one family. So why can’t you be in love with more than one person?”

“I don’t understand,” Dylan says, but his voice is shaking in a way that makes Mikey think he gets it.

“We’re us,” Mikey says. “We’re already super close, so it would just be like— like, we _know,_ and we don’t feel bad about it, and we do other boyfriend-y stuff, and— yeah.”

Dylan’s looking at him, mouth half-open, and Mikey’s not really sure what to do with his hands or feet, all of a sudden, but he finds himself tangling their fingers together and tugging Dylan up, and Dylan follows easily, like Mikey knew he would.

“Um,” Mikey says, still feeling so fucking awkward, but he figures it can’t get worse, so he goes for broke and leans in.

Dylan doesn’t move the entire time Mikey’s kissing him, but he doesn’t exactly _not_ kiss back; his lips are soft for the brief second they’re pressed against Mikey’s, and afterwards, Mikey’s entire mouth is tingling. It’s sort of magical, and very much surreal, because they know each other in every way but that one, and there’s a thrill of opening this last door and letting everything behind it wash over him.

His entire face is red, and Dylan’s eyes are wide and bright. Everything is slow and warm and thick and perfect, and it’s all still fragile, but an okay kind of fragile.

Mikey’s pretty sure they won’t break, and that’s what really matters, above all else. As long as there’s still Mikey-and-Dylan, he’ll be okay.

“I need to think about this,” Dylan says, and he sounds kind of hoarse. “I— you— love.”

“Right,” Mikey says, even though he’s pretty sure Dylan’s just rambling.

“You kissed me,” Dylan says. “You _love_ me.”

“Those are both true things,” Mikey says, shifting from foot to foot, nervous again.

“Mikey,” Dylan says, his voice breaking a little; there’s so much in it, all this awe and wonder and fear and excitement, and Mikey finally, _finally_ knows that he and Dylan are on the same page about what this could be.

“Take your time,” Mikey says. “Think about it.”

“I will,” Dylan says, and Mikey can see that he’s almost smiling. It’s the scariest thing in the world, for some reason, and he has to look away, because it’s so— he doesn’t even know, really.

It’s all just kind of a lot.

……

Mikey goes back to his dorm, because the idea of a concrete block of bedroom sounds kind of ideal for the kind of emotions-processing he needs to do right now: adequately solitary and soulless and perfect for tuning out the outside world and letting him drown his feelings in loud music.

It takes him all of fifteen minutes to realize that the solitude is driving him up the wall, though, so he turns off Spotify and tries to call Nate. When he doesn’t pick up after three tries, Mikey just takes a few deep breaths, tells himself that everything is fine, and turns his music back on.

He keeps trying Nate every few songs, even though he stops expecting him to pick up. Really, he’s proud of himself for only being mildly annoyed about it— he’d expect his brain to turn this into a full-on existential crisis, but he’s doing a great job of reassuring himself that Nate’s just busy, and he even believes it, too. It’s not unlike Nate to get that caught up in a conversation, so if he’d been distracting himself from knowing what Mikey was about to do by talking to someone else, it’s perfectly sensible that he’s not around right now.

Still, it doesn’t make it any less of a relief when Nate finally answers the video call, his face filling Mikey’s laptop screen, pixelated over the shitty campus wifi.

“Where were you?” Mikey asks, because just because he knows Nate isn’t at his beck and call, doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he was. “I talked to Dyl—”

“So did I,” Nate says. “That’s why I didn’t answer before, I’m sorry.”

“You— what?”

“He called me,” Nate says. “He was worried, which— y’know. It makes sense. We were talking things over.”

“For—” Mikey glances at the clock. “An hour and a half?”

“There was a lot to talk about,” Nate says. “And you know him, he never shuts up when it comes to talking about you.”

“He never shuts up in general,” Mikey says, but he feels a wave of fondness roll over him, not sure if it’s because of Nate, or Dylan, or the combination. It’s probably all three, honestly.

“He never shuts up about things he loves,” Nate corrects. “And he really does love you.”

“Nate—”

“Please stop trying to reassure me that it’s okay,” Nate says, smiling a little. “I know it’s okay. Seriously, I’m not gonna blame him for having good taste.”

“Oh my god,” Mikey groans, but he’s pretty sure it mostly comes out pleased.

“I’m gonna tell him to go find you,” Nate says. “He said he wants to give you space, but—”

“He’s the one who wanted space,” Mikey says.

“That’s what I said!”

“God, he’s— he’s so dumb, jesus fucking christ.”

“He’s dumb because he’s in love with you,” Nate says, sounding fucking _fond._ Mikey’s not going to dwell on it for too long, but he’s pretty sure he’s the luckiest guy on the planet and has the best boyfriend ever. The best boyfriend _s,_ now. Plural.  

“I’m in love with _you,”_ Mikey says earnestly. “And him, but— you too. Like, a lot.”

“I know,” Nate says, and then he hums a little bit, sounding content. “Hey, Mikey?”

“Yeah?” Mikey says.

“Just so you know, you— you deserve this, okay? I’m really, really happy for you,” Nate says.

Mikey’s chest aches, he’s so full of love.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m… really, really happy.”

“Good,” Nate says, grinning.

“Good,” Mikey echoes.

On the other end of the line, Nate’s phone buzzes, and there’s a knock on the door a second later.

“I think you should go answer that,” Nate says. “Good luck.”

“Love you,” Mikey says.

“Always,” Nate says, and then he ends the call.

Mikey stands up, opens the door, and finds a dumb, lanky grin on the other side.

And— god, Dylan really is here.  

“What a coincidence,” Mikey says, feeling suddenly brave, and more than a little cocky. “I was just talking about you behind your back.”

“All awful things, I hope?” Dylan says, crowing him against the doorframe.

“Terrible,” Mikey confirms, and he’s smiling when Dylan leans in to press their mouths together, an actual, proper kiss, deep and new and full of promise.

Mikey doesn’t know much about most things, and he will readily admit that, but he’s spent his whole life learning what it’s like to fall in love with your best friend and be in love with your best friend. He knows that feeling inside and out, and right now, that feeling is everything that’s happened and is happening and will continue to happen and might even happen for the rest of Mikey’s life. It’s kissing the boy next door after you’ve wanted to for years, it’s finally feeling okay and whole again, it’s trust and support and caring too damn much, it’s the sound of Nate saying _always_ sounding in his head like applause— it’s the whole thing.

God, it’s fucking perfect.

“Hope we’re better at being real boyfriends than we were at being fake ones,” Dylan says, as Mikey tugs him into the room and closes the door behind them.

Mikey just smiles up at him, thinks about the way just hearing Dylan use the word _boyfriend_ sends a jolt down his spine.

“I’d bet on us,” Mikey says.

“How much?”

Mikey shrugs, putting his hands on Dylan’s shoulders. “Twenty bucks?”

“That’s a lot of money for guys like us,” Dylan says. “That’s twenty pairs of plastic handcuffs from the dollar store.”

“It’s a risk, I know,” Mikey says. “But from where I’m standing, our odds seem pretty good.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Dylan says.

Mikey thinks that’s a good place to end the conversation, so he kisses him, because it was inevitably going to happen sooner or later.

**Author's Note:**

> A brief content warning: this is a story about someone in a monogamous relationship who develops strong romantic feelings for someone else. While guilt features heavily as a theme, this fic does not depict infidelity, and no trust is broken.
> 
> [fic moodboard](https://www.pinterest.com/lottslottslotts/hbb/), [tumblr](https://lottswrites.tumblr.com/)


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